


after all this ends

by twelveinterror



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cohabitation, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, How Do I Tag, M/M, Not Beta Read, and they were roomates, artist Makki, baker mattsun, matsuhana - Freeform, oh my god they were roommates, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveinterror/pseuds/twelveinterror
Summary: On the first month of quarantine, Takahiro buys a Hello Kitty face shield.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	after all this ends

On the first month of quarantine, Takahiro buys a Hello Kitty face shield.

A pandemic spread throughout the world keeping people cooped up in their homes, and Hiro was no different. It had been sixteen days and he’s stuck in an apartment with nothing to do. Issei had been dealing with Hiro’s antics since then. Now he has three ear piercings, a cola addiction, and a succulent called “Jeff”.

He wasn’t surprised when Hiro barged in his room wearing a Hello Kitty face shield and a mask along with it. 

“Oi, look!”

“It matches your hair.”

“I know.”

~

They are both jobless.

Issei was working at a funeral home while Hiro was waiting tables at an Italian restaurant. But because of the new safety protocols, food and business establishments’ operations are halted. Hiro was suspended indefinitely and the restaurant dismissed more than half of its staff. Issei’s employer called that morning telling him that the funeral home was not doing well due to a rumor that spread that Covid 19 casualties were brought there and the work place was not safe anymore. He had no choice but to give up his business and retire. 

“It’s fine Sir, thanks for telling me right away.”

“Thanks for understanding, keep safe and good luck.”

With time in their hands and shitty body clocks fixed, they lived healthier. Two weeks later toast for breakfast turned into two plates full of rice and eggs, and if Issei was feeling great he would make waffles.

Jeff, his succulent, gained plant friends. The window by the kitchen is teeming with plants. Issei also gained a morning routine. Wake up at 8 o’clock in the morning, check his social media, browse the news, brew coffee and make breakfast for two, wake up Hiro at 10 o’clock, eat a hearty meal, and lastly tend to his greens. 

That day, he opened the fridge to two eggs and a Coke bottle that lost its carbon. Right, they’re jobless and running low. Maybe should grow his own vegetables.He sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

  
“I’m sorry this is it.” He placed a plate in front of Hiro. It’s a singular sunny side up. 

Hiro quirked up and scrunches his nose. “Nah, don’t be! Remember when we ate cereal with spoiled milk? This is way better.” He said while reaching the huge ass bottle of tomato ketchup they bought before lockdown. “Thanks for the meal!” He said before completely drenching the egg in ketchup. 

Issei cringed deep inside but didn’t let it show. “Thanks for the meal.” He drizzled a reasonable amount of ketchup and ate.

“You know what? You really went full Cottage Core plant dad back there.” Hiro points at Issei’s Vietnamese Rose. “But I think Dark Academia suits you better.”

Issei hands a tissue. 

“Thanks.” He wipes his chin. “Though you’re more of a Skater Grunge kind of guy, I know damn well you’ll be all writing poems and proses and letters, wondering about the meaning of life, love, and death. Plus! You look good in coats and cardigans.” That’s true, according to Tumblr, personality quizzes online, and Hiro’s super-duper bomb as fuck fashion sense tm, they had established that Hiro and Issei’s core aesthetics are Kid Core and Grunge. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Angsty boy and his angsty job, and you know I’m shit at expression. Though drying flowers and museum trip sounds appealing to me.” 

Walking through exhibits, looking at memey looking classical paintings, pointing at contemporary art and saying “I could do better than that!” with Hiro sounds really appealing to him. Like a date.

“I’ll take you to one, as long as you wear your coats and all that shit.” Hiro smiles and his lip ring shimmers in the morning light “But after all this ends.” He gestures in circles with his hands.

~

Issei grew tomatoes, chili peppers, and eggplants on the balcony and tried the avocado toothpick seed hack he saw on Facebook. It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon and he was watering his plants. He became part of the growing plant parent community, but he's still jobless.

What if he makes those weird cement DIYs in Facebook and sell them? Well hey, he could make a nice pot out of cemented cabbage and a coaster out of cement dipped toast. But where the fuck can he get cement in this pandemic? Does he have enough money for online shopping? Should he? 

No, he doesn’t have money to buy cement. Him and Hiro bought a roomba that says “Oof!” when it bumps into something. Does he have enough dedication to pottery? No. 

Shopping ads will be the death of him. 

He wants to breathe. 

He wants to breathe without a mask covering his face. wants to go grocery shopping without disinfecting everything he buys. He wants to eat out with his friends. He wants to buy salty chips and Coke in bulk down the nearest convenience stores with Hiro. Man, he just wants to run around the street holding hands with Hiro like a scene from a shitty coming of age movie.

He needs to breathe.

No matter how many plants he own, no matter how well his tomatoes grow, and no matter how satisfying it is to buy weird and useless shit online, he can’t stop thinking. Will he ever see her mother face to face? What about his job? Will he even find a new job? When will this all end? Plus, he looks stupid with both glasses and a face shield on.  
What if there are prescription face shields? That’s a great idea.

“Stand a little to the left.”

Hiro is sitting by the two-person dining table, wearing Kermit and Miss Piggy printed boxers, Elmo socks and a black shirt. Issei's black shirt to be specific.

“Wait were you drawing me?” 

“Yeah. Lean on the counter, will you? And stare out the window again like you’re thinking of all the effort put into making Coraline.” He waves his sketch pad and a pencil is tucked behind his ear.

“I prefer Kubo and the Two Strings, but Coraline’s good too. Why are you drawing me?” He shifted his weight and leaned on the counter, setting down his dinosaur shaped watering can. 

“Studies, I guess. And you look like a nice piece of art staring out the window like that, I just had too.” 

“Thanks?”

"Also you had that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

“I don’t know like you’re yearning for something?” Only the scratch of pencil on paper was heard. Issei stares out and Hiro sighs contentedly. 

“Yearning? That's a big word.”

Yearning, a word that can be a verb, adjective, or noun.   
Yearning as a verb can be used as _‘I am yearning for your touch.’_  
Yearning as an adjective can be used as ‘ _You saw the yearning look in my eyes.’_  
Yearning as a noun can be used as ‘ _I felt a sense of yearning for your touch.'_

“Yeah I guess, I yearn for a job and doing shit outside.” Suddenly the neighbor’s laundry hanging on a clothesline looks appealing. The sun is high in the sky. Sunlight peeking through glass, breaking in visible rays framing Issei’s face. Plants are a weird way to cope, this is stupid.

“Honestly, same. I guess I yearn for the same thing. Let’s go to the beach after all this ends.” Hiro’s hair is vibrant under natural lighting. His pale fingers gripping graphite, gracefully gliding the pencil on paper with smooth strokes. A comfortable silence fell over them. Just steady breathing and the sound of lead on paper.

Matsukawa Issei yearns for all the ‘After all this ends.’   
_“After all this ends, I’m coming to visit you and Makki.”_  
_“After all this ends, we’re going to that concert.”_  
_“After all this ends, I’m getting married.”_  
_“After all this ends, your niece will be entering preschool.”_  
_“After all this ends, I’ll take you to the museum.”_

When the fuck will all this end? Will this ever end?  
Everyone is making plans for when after all this ends. It’s a sense of security and optimism for the future. What the fuck even is new normal? What is normal? It'll never be the same. Public restrooms will never be the same. 

Pencil continues to mark the paper for a while, then it stops. 

“I’m finished, come look!” 

“My legs got numb a little right there.” He stomps his feet and looks.

The drawing does indeed capture yearning.  
The man in the drawing was leaning on a counter opposite to the window table lined with multiple plants. Hands were setting down a wonky looking dinosaur watering can. Eyes were looking out the window. Foot tipped to a point. The worn-down table was looking sturdy. Kitchen cupboards were visible. Vietnamese Roses were blooming. The man in the drawing was Issei. 

The man in the drawing is Matsukawa Issei.   
This is how Matsukawa Issei looks in Hanamaki Takahiro’s eyes.

Slightly bad posture, lazy eyes, and thick ass eyebrows. Dark rimmed glasses. A worn-down shirt of a band he doesn’t recall. Soft pajama pants and the Baby Yoda socks that Hiro gave him last year.

“Holy shit! That’s me.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I know.”

"You made me sexy."

"That's all you."

“You could like sell it.

“I know.”

  
~

Takahiro always had a talent for art. Back in highschool he doodled on Issei's textbooks, drew patterns on his hands, and was always fucking around in the school desktops

He recently rediscovered digital art. And after weeks of continuous practice, he joined the twitter art community. 

He started gaining a decent following after he posted a fan art of LOONA’s member Chuu in the iconic strawberry dress by Lirika Matoshi. He accepted requests, participated in challenges, and traded with other artists online. 

“I think you should price your works higher.” Issei says with a mouthful of profiteroles. He indulged in baking and more baking and even more baking, and Hiro is having a blast.

“You think so?” He says, also with a mouthful of profiteroles. “Hey this is better than last week’s batch! Damn, you could own a bakery, and I'd be there every fucking day.” Hiro is laying on his bed with his tablet on hand and Issei is fixing Hiro’s Carrd.

“Your art should be worth more than a couple of bucks.” The layout of the website is really bright, bold, and colorful like Hiro and his art. They compiled a folder each for his original characters, fan art, and commissions. Issei is really flattered that Hiro’s drawing of him is now colorized and on the very top of the page, even though people thought that he was Hiro’s OC.

“Up to you, also people want more of you can you model for me?” Hiro picks on his ears. “Come on, dude you’re my muse.” He coos at him more “Yiee I know you like it! You get really flattered when people tell me that Mattsun’s hot.”

“I’m increasing the price list.”

“Make me cinnamon rolls while we’re at it.”

  
~

Issei finished Naruto and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and Hunter X Hunter and every other anime available on Netflix. Sometimes he would watch Western coming of age films with Hiro.

He doesn’t really get what’s sad about the film, he doesn’t even know what the fuck is happening but he lets Hiro curl up to him and sob. Maybe the subtitles are too fast for him to understand. Maybe he’s sugar high on soda. Maybe Hiro’s body is warm and comfortable against him.

He turns up the air conditioning.

“Here’s an idea, what if I open an art shop.” Hiro’s voice is hoarse from crying and its actually really sexy. He tilts his head.

“Yeah? What would you sell?” 

“I don’t know, maybe stickers? One of my mutuals set up their own Etsy shop and sells unofficial merch and those are pretty popular right now.”

“Really? That’s sounds appealing. You could make pins out of your Mark Lee fan art and you’re pretty good at lettering, maybe you could make song lyric ones.” Hiro has good handwriting. His signature was so pretty Issei got it framed and it sits on the corner of Issei’s desk along with his Shinobu figurine.

“I’d even make lyric inspired pins for the shitty bands you like.” Hiro jabbed on his shoulder.

“They are not shitty, ask Iwa – Chan!”

“You didn’t need to say it like Oikawa!”

They both laugh. The film that was long forgotten served as background noise. It has been years since they last seen the two face to face, months since they last met up with their former teammates, months since their last night out with their friends.  
'After all this ends, let’s meet up Matsukawa Senpai!'

“I may not look like it, but I miss them.”

“Honestly.” He felt him shift closer. “Please help me make the anime inspired ones.” Hiro whispers, wrapping his arm around him.

“Are you seducing me for my anime knowledge?   
Hey! Stop kicking me, your foot is fucking cold!” 

  
The next day, they both brainstormed for ideas, asked Hiro’s mutuals for advice, made an interest check online, and converted Hiro’s old art into prints. They definitely need to stock up on proper paper and sticker paper. Thankfully, Oikawa left his printer to them.

“Frogs are so appealing to me right now.”

“I know, but get this, frog Kyoutani.”

“Oooo he’s so gonna kill us.”

They decided on what kind of paper to use, what sized pin back buttons they’ll get, and how much they will sell Hiro’s products for. As for the products, they will sell prints, pins, stickers, and hopefully more.

“What if we make Oikawa pins?”

“Oh definitely, he’d be fucking delighted.”

Enamel pins and acrylic keychains were a great idea, but they only have Hiro’s commission money to spend. Though Issei’s plants and vegetables are selling well at the Facebook online market, they rely on Hiro to get by. And It’s a sucker punch to Issei’s ego. Hiro is working hard and he should too.

“Do we really need a vinyl sticker cutting machine? We’re running low. You’re still starting out, how about we ask someone else to make the pins and I guess I’ll help you cut the stickers by hand.”

“God, I really hope this works out. What if no one buys my shit? I swear people only follow me for my good looks and charming personality and not for my art. I’m gonna burn out before thirty. I’m too old for this, I'm not a seventeen-year-old digital art prodigy!” Hiro flopped on the bed and screamed at his pillow.

He took a long swig of Coke. “If you ask nicely, the aunties upstairs would buy some, I mean if they’re cool enough and listens to what you like.”

“I don’t think the aunties stan Dreamcatcher, Issei.”

“Anyways, I’m here. If no one buys your shit, I will. Have you seen the response? Believe me someone will. If all else fails, I’ll help you force Oikawa to open his purse.”

Hiro rolled to his side to look at him. “You would really help me?” 

“Yeah, look someone’s accepting pin customizations online.”

“Cool, let’s go with that.”

  
~

Issei decided to sell baked goods. First he sold brownies to his neighbors, now he's earning a decent amount to help Hiro with the bills.

The two of them opened their respective stores on the same day. Issei is on the online marketplace, and Hiro's online store.

  
The delivery guy just picked up today’s batch of parcels. MakkiCheese is doing great and orders are coming in left and right. They finally saved up enough money for equipment and bought a Silhouette Cameo. Hopefully they could buy a second printer soon. Hiro opened commissions again and is cooped up in their room. 

Their room.

Their apartment was getting cramped with all the packaging lying around (Also Issei’s mini forest.) and it was getting hard to get shit done, so they decided to turn Hiro’s bedroom into an office and store room and just room together. It’s not like its new to them anyway. They fall asleep together when watching movies and they used to have sleep overs back in high school. It’s not a big deal.

Life has been better since they bought the sticker cutting machine. They’ll need to ship the next batch of orders next week, so until then Issei is handling Hiro’s store. He’s checking orders, making an inventory on the products, talking to suppliers, and quality control. This is the least that he could do to help Hiro. After all, Hiro is drawing piece after piece with no breaks. 

He finished up today’s batch of sticker sheets just in time to start on dinner. 

  
“Dinner’s ready.” Issei peeked in the room to find Hiro hunched on the desk, fiddling with his tablet and his forehead scrunched. “Hey, you should eat.”

“Not before I finish this.”

“Dude, you did and un did that line for a few times now.” Issei pressed his thumbs on Hiro’s upper back, and he straightened up. “You’re going to lose your nonexistent eye brows frowning like that.” Issei slides his hands up his neck, rakes his fingers through pink hair, rubs his temples in circles.

“Are you here to slander me? Just leave me to struggle with hand gesture.” He grabs on Issei’s wrists. “I fucking tried to take a mirror selfie with my mouth because I only have two hands. Gosh why don’t I have three hands?”

“You need to eat or else your art juices will be drained and your creative as fuck brain will be all dried up. Also, the ketchup I made a yesterday should be good now.”

“Let me suffer in peace.”

“I’ll let you take weird reference photos of my hands.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I want to see the photo you took earlier. Come, I made fried chicken.”

  
“Wow you really did make it.” He said, sitting cross legged in a sweater and boxers. He was wearing Mona Lisa patterned socks.

Issei placed the jar of homemade ketchup in front of Hiro’s plate of rice and chicken. “I don’t know if it’ll pass your high ketchup standards, but there you go.”

“Thanks for the food!”

Hiro removed his chicken's skin and placed it on Issei’s plate, then he cut the chicken in pieces. He uncapped the jar of ketchup and drenched the chicken of it. First spoonful, eyes focused. Second spoonful, eyes widening. Third spoonful, he speaks. “Woah, this is good. What the fuck?” His eyes were sparkling, mouth quirked up, and chewing quickly. “My art juices are replenished. I feel like I can make any hand gesture my bitch!”

“What gesture were you trying to draw that you had to take a picture of your two hands in front of the mirror with your mouth?” He hands a tissue. “How did you even take the photo with your mouth?”

“I took a video then screenshotted it.” He wipes the corner of his mouth. “I was trying to draw holding hands, but I only have two hands.”

He clasped his hands together in front of his chest. “Like this?”

“No, not like praying! Cross it.” He crossed his wrists together, then intertwined his fingers. “Like this.”

“Like this?” He struggled to keep his arms upright.

“No, that’s too stiff. Try this arm over the other.”

He switched arms. “Like this?”

Hiro’s face blanked. “Fuck it.” He stood up, grabbed Issei’s hand, and intertwined their fingers.Cold palms against warm ones. His hand was paler than Issei’s. Calloused from months of cutting stickers by hand using tiny scissors, calloused from kitchen work, calloused from years of volleyball. He retrieved his phone on the table and took a photo of their hands held up in between them. “Relax.” He loosens his grip. “Now downwards.” 

Hiro snaps the last photo and Issei lets go.

“Let’s eat?”

“Yeah, you haven’t touched your plate.”

  
The night progressed like usual, Hiro washed the dishes as Issei dried them. Afterwards, they lay in their bedroom to watch some show on Netflix. Hiro works on his tablet, sometimes he makes remarks on the episode.

When the clock strikes 11:00 o'clock, Issei shuts off his sticker filled laptop, places it on the desk and shifts on his side to face the wall. After all these nights he learned to ignore the tablet's brightness and drifts to slumber. But tonight, the tablet screen is obnoxiously bright. He tosses and turns for a while before hooking his chin over Hiro's shoulder to look at the screen. 

Two women in flowy dresses sittin on a picnic blanket, leaning on a huge tree. Smiles on their faces, holding hands.

Holding hands, like the photo on the corner of the screen.

"Don't make their arms too veiny."

He gets a hum as a reply. Watching Hiro draw is mesmerizing, like a conductor in front of an orchestra. Slender fingers gripping a stylus, sliding on the screen. The gentle tapping of stylus on glass, the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and their breathing are heard. Issei doesn't really know what the fuck is going on but he knows it's going to be pretty.

Everything about Hiro is pretty.

He started drifting away on his shoulder.

"Hey." Hiro tapped his cheek. "You can use a pillow now."

"Finish that tomorrow."

"I will. My shoulder aches because your big ass head is heavy."

Issei buried his face on his pillow, and layed on his stomach. He felt the matress dip when Hiro crawled to the blankets.

"Let me spoon you."

Issei rolled to his side and digged his hand under his pillow. He felt Hiro shift closer. Warm body against his back. Arm wrapped around gis torso. Breath fanned his neck. This reminded Issei of the nights in high school. Cramped rooms in training camps, sharing futons, pranks on teammates, and trying not to giggle.

But tonight there's no mischief. No alarms at four in the morning, no teammates around. Just the two of them.

"I'm glad I never gave up on art." Hiro whispers behind him.

He hums.

"It's just..." Hiro fiddled with Issei's shirt. "What if I pursued art school and not work straight ahead?"

"If you have a time machine, would you?"

"I don't know, they'd tell me being an artist isn't a real job."

"It is a real job. I gouge out eyeballs out of corpses."

"Organs too."

"Organs too."

"It's just... I like where I am now."

"With your arms around me?"

"Well, that too, and now I know what I really want to do for the rest of my life."

"And that is?"

"To permanently be the big spoon and to make money out of my own art." Silence. "Let's sleep? Good night."

"Night."

Issei forces his eyes shut.

~

  
Hiro left to go grocery shopping. Issei's actually the one on grocery duty this week, but he insisted on being the one going out and told Issei that he's been working hard and deserves a day off. Well he's been home since March so...

Anyway, since he isn't allowed to do any MakkiCheese related shit, did all the chores this morning, and laundry day was yesterday, he had nothing to do.

He doesn't deserve a "day off", he would rather be with Hiro right now disinfecting everything they put on the shopping cart.

He forgot to tell Hiro to buy him coke.

Issei decide to make cinnamon rolls for tomorrow's batch. It's honestly not that hard to make if you're skilled in baking or patient. He scrolls under reddit tags while the dough rests.

Issei and Hiro live on the fifth floor of an apartment complex. They don't have living room space, so when you enter the apartment, you see the dining room and kitchen at the end of the hallway. Shoe racks or by the door at the corner. There are three doors at the hall, two bedrooms and a bathroom.

He remembers the day they decided to room together. They rearranged both of their respective rooms. Hiro's room is now full of boxes and merchandise. A table for their old desktop, Oikawa's old printer, and their vinyl sticker cutting machine. Artworks line the walls.

Hiro's clothes are now in Issei's closet. Their respective double sized mattresses are now stacked on top of each other. Issei's empty book shelf is now filled with Hiro's trinkets. Stickers now fill his laptop and phone case.

Much has changed over the course of months. Plants line the table by the window. Vegetables grow out in the balcony as the clothes line hold their laundry. He learned how to bake and Hiro rediscovered his passion for art. He is working very hard for the both of them and he is so proud of Hiro and how far he's come.

The timer rings.

He kneads the dough, butters it up, sprinkles a generous amount of cinnamon sugar, rolls it into a log, cut, and let it rest some more.

Hiro opens the door with three grocery bags in tow, Hello Kitty face shield and a baby pink cloth mask covers his face. "Help me."

They placed the bags on the counter. Issei rinses everything with water while Hiro takes a shower.

"Woah, you baked cinnamon rolls?" Hiro, fresh from the shower, sits down with a foot up on the chair.

"They sure are." He places a plate in front of him.

Hiro unravels the roll with a fork and takes a bite. "For tomorrow?"

"Yeah." he bites his own roll.

"There's Coke in the fridge, I think you forgot to tell me to buy you some before I leave."

"I love you." he blurts out.

"I know."

"I mean I love you in a romantic sense." 

Hiro swallows, then sets down his fork. "I know, and I also love you in a romantic sense."

"Hold on." He gets up and pours two glasses of Coke from the fridge and places the glasses on the table with the light clink of ice.

He stuffs his face with food. Hiro is staring at him with a blank face, the tips of his ears are red.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah."

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, I thought we established that?"

"When? How the fuck didn't I know?"

He scratches the back of his head. "Dude, we share a bank account."

"You call me "dude"."

"But in a romantically and I spoon you every night."

"This is embarrassing." He removes his glasses and covers his face.

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Didn't I ask you out on a date and you said yes?"

"So that is a date, I thought I was the only one thinking that."

His heart is pounding, but that's that. it's kind of anticlimactic, but Issei wouldn't trade it for the world.

"So that's it." he drinks that last of his soda.

"My illustration of you is the header of my art Twitter, what else do you want? Would you rather have me proclaim my love for you by singing Austin Mahone? And you literally confessed to me just because I bought you soda."

"At least let me take you out to dinner first."

"Sure, after all this ends."

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic, i am so sorry. the matsuhana brain rot is real  
> listened to the FF when writing
> 
> all I ever need - austin mahone  
> good night - dreamcatcher  
> not warriors - waterparks
> 
> if you have read this thank you very much!
> 
> i'm @twelveinterror at twitter talk to me i guess hkdks


End file.
